


Commitment Fears

by skittyTail (orphan_account)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Makeup Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/skittyTail
Summary: From a Ko-fi request: May I make another request for Gordie x f.reader? The couple have a serious argument but they make up...sex ❤More of this stuff!! I've become the GordiexReader porn guy but it's fine I'll roll w/ it. In this one, Gordie has some problems with committing and gets into an argument w/ Ms.Reader before patching things up with a grand gesture.
Relationships: Makuwa | Gordie/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Commitment Fears

You pulled your jacket tighter against the sinister breeze. The spot you’d chosen to wait outside of Chirchester Stadium was far from sheltered. Waiting out here was quickly becoming an assault from the winter, a battle of attrition that you were going to lose before long. 

You checked your phone, stiff fingers struggling to press the buttons on the side. You weren’t supposed to be waiting this long. The image on the lock screen seemed to mock you with its smiling faces - you and Gordie, donning gaudy outfits from his birthday party, cheek to cheek. You stared until the screen went black on its own. No texts, no calls. You huffily wake the phone back up and thumb out half of a text to Gordie.  _ Where are you? _ Backspace.  _ You should’ve been out here by now.  _ Backspace.  _ Hurry up!!!  _ Backspace. 

Your phone went dark again and you stuffed your fingers back into your mittens. The longer you waited, the more likely it was that Gordie would finally show up. He would come out the glass doors of the stadium with a vacant smile and meet up just like you’d agreed to, if a bit late. And you would swallow back your irritation when he kissed you. Move on with your day.

It was getting colder. The sun had set. The bluish hues of Chirchester were starting to pick up the gold of lamplight. The physical exertion it was taking to keep yourself warm was shortening your breath and your temper.

The cold won out, as did your frustration. Your boots landed loudly against the tile floor of the stadium’s entryway. Of course, he was right there in the lobby, mingling with a group of tittering fans. It was so innocuous - they were taking selfies with him, he was laughing at their jokes, they would swoon at his confidence, he would puff up at their praise. He accepted a gift from one and responded with a gentlemanly kiss on the hand. Your irritation, already stoked, rose in a crescendo at the same rate as the kissed girl’s glee. 

You wouldn’t interrupt them, though. The girls hadn’t done anything wrong. You slowly, purposefully, strode to one of the couches and sat in his line of sight. He gave a little wave when he noticed you. You folded your hands in your lap.

Gordie went to work seeing the girls off. “I’ve got  _ plans _ , ladies, go on.” “Yeah, yeah, I’ll follow you back on Instagram.” “It was lovely talking with you.”

You didn’t move from your spot when Gordie approached. He zipped up his jacket and offered a hand. His smile was unsure. “You ready to go?” When you didn’t take his hand, he slowly retreated into his pockets. “What’s up?”

“I was ready to go thirty minutes ago,” you said. “But then I got hypothermia from waiting.”

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry -”

“I don’t like how much you flirt with your fans.”

“What?” Gordie leaned back. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

The leather of the couch creaked as you got to your feet. “Well, I don’t have a problem with being friendly, but  _ kissing _ them? Why would that ever be okay?” You could feel yourself getting too hot, too carried away. Your jaw was tense enough to ache from your worrying. You had to start pacing to find some way to get the surplus energy out. 

Gordie shook his head. The artificial lights overhead made speckled patterns in his sunglasses. “It was a  _ hand  _ kiss. There’s nothing even remotely inappropriate about that.”

“Maybe it would be appropriate if you hadn’t been flirting so aggressively with her beforehand.” You swept your hands outward. “Honestly, the way you lead these girls on!”

“Lead them on? I really don’t think any of them believe that I’d be willing to date them.”

“Of course they do! That’s part of your  _ pretty boy _ appeal - the fangirls get to imagine out entire relationships with you.” You pulled your scarf down from your overheated face. “For goodness’ sake, you’re like a one-man boyband.”

Gordie’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s not my fault that most of my fans find me attractive.”

Your teeth clacked together as your jaw slammed shut. “You  _ know _ that’s not what this is about. Do you really think I’m giving you a hard time for being too good looking?”

“I don’t know,” Gordie said meekly.

“It’s pretty obvious that that’s not what this is.”

“That’s  _ kind of _ what it is. My fans wouldn’t try to flirt with me if I wasn’t attractive.”

More frustration flared up at his words. The added exasperation that came from waiting and fuming and getting in your own head was making past frustrations bubble to the front. Something behind the crease in Gordie’s cheeks that came from his frustrated expression conjured images in your mind of every time you’d seen him schmoozing with fans. Whenever you were put face-to-face with a group of fangirls like that, you didn’t feel like you were distinct from them in any way, despite being Gordie’s girlfriend. Maybe you were being selfish. But you felt like dating Gordie gave you the right to at least a smidgeon of possessiveness over him. 

After a moment of deliberating and grinding your teeth, you spoke up, quietly. “Your fans wouldn’t try to flirt with you nearly as much if they knew you had a girlfriend.” You could tell from Gordie’s wince that you’d struck a nerve, but you had no intention on backing down. This conversation had to be had at some point, and the way that he evaded the subject only supported your theory that Gordie knew how much of his appeal stemmed from his fans’ ability to imagine a relationship with him.

Gordie pursed his lips. Weariness set into his features, a rare look for him. “Hun, I’ve already  _ told _ you. I have a right to some amount of privacy and I don’t want to air all of my details to the public. Public relationships mean public breakups, and, trust me, those will turn out worse for you than for me.”

“Why are you so sure that we’re going to break up?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Gordie put out his hands, fingers splayed, and let out a long breath through his teeth. “I just don’t want to wait until I know we’re really serious, you know?”

“What does ‘serious’ even mean?” You shook your head. It was beginning to grow grating to hear the same excuses from him every time the subject came up. “Are we supposed to keep our relationship a secret until we’re walking down the damn aisle?”

“No, that’s not - agh, listen, it’s a  _ step _ . A benchmark, like meeting your parents, or moving in together. There’s gotta be a certain amount of commitment.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Commitment? From the way I see it, you’re the one that isn’t committed. At least I’m not flirting with girls left and right.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just - it’s what I’m used to doing.” Gordie bent over, hands on his knees, like an exhausted marathon runner. “I need some time before I’m ready to fully commit to something like this. Could you just be willing to wait for me a little bit?”

Despite the powerful influence that his sad eyes had on your heart, you knew that you had to be bluntly honest with him. “No, Gordie, I’m not sure I can.” You turned on your heel, tightened your scarf back up, and left the stadium. You just didn’t have it in you to keep wearing yourself out with this conversation, with this relationship. Gordie gave a weak plea behind you as you walked away, but you steeled yourself and continued on. Not right now. You were hot in the head, and tense with anxiety, and your eyes stung with the threat of potential tears. You needed to walk away from this moment. Whether you would be willing to try again, you would make up your mind later on.

-

“Any updates?”

“You’ve got, bzzt, five new messages from Gordie.” At this point, even your rotom’s tinny voice was starting to sound disappointed with the situation.

You sighed. “Anything else?”

“Oh! Bzzt, looks like you just got a message in your group chat named  _ tympole emoji _ .” 

You rolled over to reach across your bed to where your phone was charging. Freshly showered and changed into pajamas, you were relaxed to the point of sleepiness. No intention on doing anything this evening. A couple taps on your phone, the speech bubbles of your group chat opened. The most recent message read  _ Where r u at?  _

_ Uh, idk, home?  _ You sent. In another message, you added,  _ I literally just got done w work.  _

A quick response.  _ U mean ur not even in Chirchester??? The battle starts in a half hour!! _

_ I’m not going. _

_ What! _

__ _ Remember?? Gordie and I r fighting. _

__ _ Doesn’t mean u get to ghost on us! Come on if u take the fast train, u can still make it. _

__ _ Sold my ticket. _

__ The response to that one was just a pair of distraught emojis. You set your phone aside and flopped onto your back. You could feel a twinge of tension in your temples - a stress headache already spawning just from the subject at hand. No matter how disappointed your buddy seemed at your absence, you knew that you were torn up more about it than anyone else. You’d been looking forward to this night since Gordie had given you and your friends tickets last month. Tonight would be a huge, exciting exhibition match between him and Leon. A big charity event.

You had sold your ticket pretty soon after your big fight with Gordie; you knew you wouldn’t be able to enjoy the match with the wounds still fresh. The only real bright side was that you’d netted a pretty penny from the sale. Seats that good for such a major event were in high demand. 

A buzz came from your phone. You braced yourself a second for a chewing out from your friends before checking the group chat. The new message was an image, captioned with the words  _ I think u should come  _ and a pensive emoji. At first glance, you didn’t understand. The image was just an advertisement for the exhibition match. It was similar to all of the other promotional material you’d seen, though with some of the graphic elements shuffled around. 

It took a moment to understand why your friend had sent such a thing. On further studying, you saw an extra piece of text on the image, near the bottom. The text claimed that there would be a  _ special guest _ at the event, but that couldn’t be right. The name of the special guest was  _ your  _ name. A sinking feeling swirled in your gut. 

You sent the image to Gordie, ignoring the line of sad messages that he’d sent earlier.  _ What is this about???? _

He responded far too quickly and too vaguely.  _ See you tonight!!!!! _

Dammit.

-

You had to rush a bit to make the commuter train, but it was your only hope of making it to Chirchester before the match was completely over. You squeezed into the car, one restless face in a sea of bleary-eyed workers on the way home. It was frustrating to admit, but you were excited. You’d been so dejected, so in your head for the past couple of days since the fight. It had been starting to look like you and Gordie were officially over.

During the train ride, you kept occupied texting your friend. She’d been delighted to hear that you were coming to the match, and she was trying to fill you in on the details you would miss out on in your lateness. Lots of pictures - selfies, shots of strange people sitting nearby, shots of the field during the opening ceremonies. You couldn’t help but zoom in on a picture of the huge stadium monitor that showed Gordie and Leon up close. They’d both left behind their athletic uniforms for finer dress for the event, and they looked downright gorgeous. 

Your anxiety grew. You would be seeing Gordie again so soon, and, as the stations leading up to Chirchester came and went, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted the train to slow down or speed up. With sweaty palms, you twisted your phone in your hand and cycled between chatting with your friend, peering at the frustratingly blurry picture of well-dressed Gordie, and double checking your reflection in the screen to make sure that you didn’t look like too much of a worried mess. Eventually, whether you were ready for it or not, Chirchester station came. 

You tumbled out of the surging crowds at the station and broke into a half-jog through the streets. Your breath puffed in little clouds in front of you, quick and short, hot with nervousness. You were more than a little late, but the match wouldn’t be over yet - if anything, you were going to show up right past the halfway point, right after intermission. 

As if to confirm your theory, your phone buzzed with a text from Gordie that you slowed down to check. You nearly tripped over yourself when you were greeted with Gordie’s face - a selfie from the locker room. Though his skin was sheened slightly with the sweat of an intense match, he was still handsome as ever. The text beneath read,  _ Can’t wait to see you!!! How do I look? _

You found yourself blushing as you typed out a response.  _ I won’t lie, didn’t know I had a thing for ascots until now _ , followed by a wide-eyed, blushing emoji. He responded with a wink and a heart. You mentally chided yourself for thinking that you would ever be able to walk away from this guy.

When you stamped into the lobby of the stadium, breathless and nervous, you paled at the utter silence in the air. With the match going on, the only people present in the room were a bored receptionist, a bored youth flitting through their phone, and an awkwardly shuffling gym trainer. The gym trainer perked up when you arrived, and crossed over to meet you halfway. Just like the headliners of the event, she had exchanged her uniform for a more formal vest and suit coat. 

“You’re finally here,” she observed gleefully. “We were starting to worry you wouldn’t make it. Come this way.” She grabbed your hand and guided you through the participant entrance. She broke away and left you waiting by the doorway in the locker room as she dug around a locker for something.

“So,” you said, trying to fill the silence. “What exactly am I expected to do here?”

“First of all, put this on.” She spun to face you and presented a long, beautiful gown made of crunchy fabric. The artificial lights caught the iridescent surface, which glimmered in a deep color that you knew you wore well. “He picked it out for you,” the trainer pointed out in response to your stunned expression. 

With a little help, you stuffed yourself into the dress. It fit flatteringly, if a little snugly - whatever measurements that were used had to have been taken before your post-fight comfort food binge. Nevertheless, as you twisted to check yourself out in the wall mirror, you felt beautiful. Maybe even enough to match Gordie’s finery.

You were sent to wait on the edge of the field, a tiny form in the enormous energy of the stadium. You leaned on the wall of the entryway. A fierce battle was underway, and the impacts could be felt underfoot. The hard transition from relative silence to the cacophony of the stadium left your ears ringing. 

Across the pitch, you caught sight of Gordie. He looked tense, his expression betraying that he was on the ropes. You put up a hand to wave. He turned, slightly, then once more in an extravagant double-take. The sight energized him, like he’d been given a shot of pure electricity. Fists pumping, leaping into the air, he yelled out with his newfound second wind. He was an absolute delight to watch, all pep and vigor wrapped up in an especially attractive waistcoat. 

You cheered him on as he threw himself into the match with zest, though you were sure that your voice was lost in the chaos. He took back the battle with aplomb, pulling out a series of dodges and critical hits that drove the audience wild and left you chewing your nails with anticipation. He dragged a victory out from under seemingly impossible odds. When the discord of the match subsided, Gordie waved you over from the center of the field after he shook hands with Leon. 

“I’m glad you came,” he said. He was grinning so wide, it looked almost painful on his cheeks. 

You took his offered hand and gave an exaggerated bow. “I couldn’t keep myself away if I tried.”

You put yourself between the two boys. Gordie’s arm went around your waist, while Leon put a friendly hand on your shoulder. The camera rotoms stopped in place to settle on you, and when Gordie spoke at them, his proud voice echoed over the arena. “I’m dedicating my victory tonight to my wonderful, amazing, beautiful girlfriend!”

“Oh, is that right?” Leon chortled from your other side. “Guess it’s a good thing I let you win, then. Don’t wanna be responsible for ruining your relationship.” 

Gordie guffawed and gave Leon a shove. “Shut up and let me have this.” In a swift motion, he spun you to face him and planted a theatrical kiss on you. You had already been welled up with emotion from this whole evening, but the experience of having a packed stadium cheer for your kiss was the nail in the coffin. You had to bury your face in Gordie’s shoulder to hide from the cameras; no one needed to see you melting into a blubbering mess. The burning of your own embarrassment and the stadium lights made you feel like you were set ablaze. 

After heaps of bowing, and waving, and thanking the audience, Gordie hoisted you in his arms and carried you off of the field. When you were free from the noise in the sanctuary of the locker room, you noticed how intensely you were trembling. There was no way you could have ever been prepared for such an event. 

“How was that?” Gordie was holding you tightly, and he was even more out of breath than you were. “You forgive me now?”

You couldn’t conjure your voice yet. You nodded, smiling shakily, and gave Gordie a small, soft kiss. You could feel the relief that went through him, loosening his muscles. 

“C’mon,” he said, setting you back on your feet. “We gotta go say hi to everyone, take pictures while we’re looking all beautiful.”

“Absolutely not.” You finally found your voice. Gordie gave a concerned look when you grabbed him by the collar. 

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no way you’re getting away with leaving this room  _ unfucked _ wearing something like that.”

His expression softened. “You mean?”

“Oh, yes. C’mere.”

You had him on the floor right away, and you were quick to shed your restrictive gown. You kissed him with a forceful, prodding tongue and moved your hands over him with the intention of feeling every inch of him beneath his formal digs. He was compliant with your assertive movements, excitement clear in his eyes when you broke from the kiss to attack his jaw with your teeth. 

You rocked against him, hands splayed on his broad, soft chest. You could already feel your body tingling with arousal at the sight of him spread out on his back, layered up in gorgeous clothing like a finely decorated present just waiting to be unwrapped. You knew he was excited, too, pressing against you noticeably. In his shapely pants, the tightness of his erection pressing against the fabric was visible and tempting. 

You sat back onto his lap, pulling him up with you by his ascot, and trailed kisses along his neck as you began to undress him. You wanted to savor every layer, every new sight as you slipped off the fine fabric. But you had little control over your speed as Gordie provided other stimuli that motivated you to move faster. He trailed a hand down to lazily push aside your underwear and slip a finger into you, and he was still growing harder against you as you went. It was beginning to require a lot of self-control to resist ripping the clothes off of him.

“You’re really wet already,” he remarked as he easily slid another finger into you. He moved slowly, too slowly. You were pushing down your hips to get to the bottom knuckles faster. “I’ll have to keep in mind how horny you get - ah!”

You bit down on him to shut him up. More hasty than ever, you finished undressing him, casting aside his shirt and pants into the ever growing mound of fancy clothing. You had only broken away for long enough to get his pants off, but you were already missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you. When you returned to your spot on top of him, you were glad to fill that void with his cock. 

As you adjusted yourself so that you could settle fully onto his girthy penis, Gordie put his thumb to your lips. A request for a kiss. Normally, you would’ve immediately leaned over to give him what he was asking for, but something in you couldn’t help but notice that he was cupping your cheek with the hand that he’d been fingering you with. You kissed the tip of his thumb and met his eyes with a steady, intense gaze. His eyes widened when you turned his hand and put his damp fingers into your mouth. 

“Oh. Oh, fuck, that’s hot.” Gordie was visibly blushing as you sucked on his fingertips. You held his gaze as you swirled your tongue in circles around the fingers. He groaned out loud and you could feel his cock twitching against your walls. You pushed down, took him further inside. Gordie took in a breath and touched his forehead to yours, then asked, “How’s it taste?”

You hummed, released his fingers from your mouth. “You’ll have to try it yourself sometime.” You giggled when he frowned at your words. As you settled yourself more assuredly on him, you guided his drool-covered fingers down to your clit, which he gladly started to stimulate. At the contact, you loosened up and began to move even more easily. You began to slam into his hips, hard and fast, too eager to care about taking your time to relish in the sensations. 

Heat prickled at your skin, pleasure making your muscles tense and relax in turn. Gordie’s hand was clumsy with your clit, but fast, and you were sure you would cum soon enough. Of course, Gordie was far ahead of you. He got noisier as he closed in on his climax, moaning and whimpering and repeating your name like a mantra. You felt him tighten up, felt his cock ripple as he filled you with cum. Because of the position, the semen very obviously dribbled out as soon as he was finished, trailing down the inside of your thigh and making you very aware of how big of an orgasm Gordie’s was. You allowed yourself to stop moving so much when Gordie finished, focusing in instead on the sensation of his fingers on your clit, and soon you were hit with a climax that left you clinging as tightly as you possibly could onto Gordie. 

You came down in a haze, and Gordie hurried you up to wipe down and put your clothes back on. “I still need to see my fans,” he insisted. “I don’t want to neglect them after such a big match.”

You nuzzled into Gordie’s shoulder as he helped you up off of the floor. “I don’t need to worry about any flirting anymore, right?”

  
Gordie chuckled. “Hun, not only do my fans know I’m in a relationship now, if they aren’t stupid, they’ll also know we  _ just _ had sex. Don’t worry.”

"Good"


End file.
